


empty nights

by DeconstructedIronhide (InsertCoolName)



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: BV Ironhide, Cats, Depression, Gen, Post-Transformers: Dark of the Moon (2011)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 11:46:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14496285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertCoolName/pseuds/DeconstructedIronhide
Summary: Ironhide’s taken to calling nights like theseempty nights.





	empty nights

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read.

Sleepless nights spent in the workshop are becoming more and more of a commonplace for Ironhide.

He’s tired, but he knows if he heads back to the hab he’ll just lie awake all night staring at the ceiling. It’s what always happens on nights like this. Usually he just rides it out with mind-numbing work - reorganizes his tool chest, cleans out the laser engraver, melts down some of the reusable scrap metal - but tonight he just doesn’t have the energy.

The workshop’s too quiet.

Ironhide’s processor feels empty.

He’s been sitting in the same spot for awhile now, resting on the workbench with his helm on his folded arms, just staring at nothing. The silence presses down on him like a smothering weight. He knows that all it would take is an unspoken command to the workshop sound system to alleviate it, maybe put something quiet on just for background noise or something hard and heavy to fill up the space in his helm, but he just.  _ Doesn’t _ . Just lets himself fall into it.

Ironhide’s taken to calling nights like these  _ empty nights _ .

_ Mrrh? _

Ironhide twitches a bit.  _ Cat. _ The sound of pawsteps reaches his audial sensors. He looks over, and, sure enough, Cat is daintily padding across the surface of the workbench with her tail held high. For a moment Ironhide marvels at her uncanny knack for getting up onto really high places she really shouldn’t be able to, but the thought slips away. He watches Cat as she traverses a mess of tools, all of them rather giant compared to her tiny organic body, and approaches Ironhide with another muffled  _ mrruh _ . She rubs against his arm, purring like a finely-tuned engine, and Ironhide manages a tiny smile before it, too, slips away.

Apparently unsatisfied by Ironhide’s lack of attention to her, Cat yells and begins to pick her way through the components of Ironhide’s arm. Ironhide dares not move in fear of accidentally hurting her, and simply watches until the feline makes it up next to his face. Her purr is even louder with her so close to his audial, as is her Siamese cry. She headbutts his lower jaw, switching between whining  _ mrahhh _ s and muttering  _ mrfrfrf _ s.

Something inside Ironhide loosens a tiny bit at Cat’s noises.

The workshop doesn’t feel too quiet anymore.


End file.
